I Don't Want to Need You
by chalaess
Summary: Stephanie gets fed up with the direction her career is headed and decides to do something about it, seeking help from an unexpected person. RS. Rating is for safety.
1. Chapter 1

So, as usual, anyone who you recognize belongs to JE. And anyone who you don't recognize belongs to me. Unless you're completely unobservant and have forgotten a JE character: then they still belong to JE. You're failure to recognize them doesn't make them mine. (Sad, really. Otherwise I'd write a story about Ranger and give it to someone who's never heard of him. Then he'd be mine :)) Likewise, if you live by some creepy person who happens to coincidentally be the same person as the bad guy in this story or something like that, that doesn't mean they are a JE character. It just means you need to move.

Also, I apologize if this seems a bit strange of a story, or some parts don't mesh perfectly. As many of my stories do, this started because I thought of a line that I thought would be good for a RS fic, and so I wanted to incorporate it, so then I needed to build a story for the line. It also came from the many rants of me and my friend over Stephanie's need to get training. So, there you go. There's my advance apology. Now, enjoy. (BTW, if you somehow didn't get the clue from the first bit of this paragraph, this is a Babe story.)

OH! And there are spoilers up through 12.

Chapter 1

About four months ago, I was shot at by a crazy woman who claimed I was sleeping with her husband. Well, ok, I guess she's not too crazy: if I was married to Ranger and I found out someone else was trying to steal them away, their death would be much more painful and drawn out than a simple shooting. About a month after that, Joe Morelli, who I'd been dating in an on-again off-again fashion for quite some time, came home from work and we had a serious discussion. He'd realized that I wasn't going to stop being a bounty hunter and that if I changed who I was, I wouldn't be the person he loved. But, at the same time, he couldn't deal with me bounty huntering anymore. We decided that we really couldn't have a real relationship with that kind of problem. So, we broke it off, for real this time, and decided to just be friends.

Anyway, the point of all this life history is that now, as I showered off after rolling in the mud with another FTA, my second FTA-induced shower of the week (it was only Wednesday), I sort of saw the benefit of having a normal job. No rolling in the mud. No endless cop jokes. And, I winced as I reached down to turn off the shower, no FTA's falling onto their knees on your ribs after you tackle them in the mud (still not sure how he managed to land like that).

Wrapping myself in a towel, I glanced in the mirror as I walked past it. I was already starting to get a bruise at the base of my throat where the FTA had tried to choke me after falling. If Lula hadn't run in with her stungun, I could have died like that: lying in mud, choked to death by an overweight, middle aged car theif. Not the most elegant death. Not that I can think of any deaths that _are_ elegant, but there has to be at least one out there, and the scenario I just described is certainly not it.

After quickly getting dressed, I grabbed a beer from the fridge, opened it, and then sat down watching TV while I drank it. Ok, so I wasn't actually watching TV, but the TV was on. What I was actually thinking about was the fact that I'd been beat up once again by an FTA. When I first started my bounty huntering carreer, I'd sucked. I was always getting rescued by Joe or Ranger, but at least I was training a bit. I went to the shooting range pretty regularly, and I was getting more comfortable with a gun. Then I'd killed someone with said gun, and since then, everything had changed. Well, ok, I guess very little had changed: I still wasn't very good (I was just lucky), and I was always getting rescued by someone, whether it was Joe, Ranger or, like today, Lula. The only thing that had really changed, I guess, was that I now can't really get car insurance, and my gun stays unloaded and in my cookie jar. Sure, I'd gone to the RangeMan shooting range a few times during the Stiva incident, and I went running when Ranger forced me, but I was not, by any stretch of the imagination, getting trained.

Which means that, unless that changes, my carreer won't. I'll still get muddy, garbagey, and covered in other disgusting substances. I'll still get beat up by my FTAs all the time. And, perhaps the most humiliating, I'll still get rescued by everyone. The list of my rescuers is a long one: Joe, Ranger, Valerie, Sally, various Merry Men who'd pitched in. Even my mom once ran over a crazy rabbit for me.

Well, enough is enough. I'm getting some training and that's that! I flipped off the TV, put down the beer bottle which had somehow become empty, and picked up my cell phone. I was about to call Ranger and then I realized that it was sort of defeating the point. If my goal was to not need him, or any of my other rescuers, anymore, having him be the one to train me sort of seemed like a bit of a...well, I couldn't think of what it was, but it didn't seem right. (A/N: Sneaky, sort of, way of admitting defeat after several hours of trying to think of the word I was looking for :))

I set the phone down and thought a moment, looking at it as though hoping it'd dial itself and the person on the other side would be someone with awesome training, who could train me, and who I could trust completely. Suddenly, I knew who to call. He only fit two out of the three requirements, but I was pretty sure he'd have contacts who could take care of the third. Grinning, I dialled his number and pressed send.


	2. Chapter 2

Oh, so basically the same disclaimer as last time, about you needing to move, and all that.

Ok, so, I have now had two people confirm that Stephanie's dad was in the military (thanks rinskigoddess for the review:)), but I don't know what branch or sect or whatever they are called he was in. So, I'm saying Army because it works for me. I apologize if that's wrong. And I apologize for Stephanie's dad's emotionalness. I know that's never how he is in the books, but it seems like I always have at least one of my characters get more emotional than normal around chapter 2 or 3. I can't stand emotionlessness. Anyway, I've gotten it out of my system for a few chapters probably, so you don't have to worry about Bobby suddenly deciding he's passionately in love with Grandma Mazur, or something like that. :)

Oh, and I just realized how short that last chapter was, and I'm sorry. A lot of the chapters might be short, so I'm sorry. I'll try to update every day to make up for it.

Chapter 2

"Hello?" My mother's voice came over the phone. Not really who'd I'd hoped to talk to.

"Hey, Mom. Can I talk to Dad?" Not that I expected her to make it easy.

And of course... "Stephanie? You haven't brought Joe over in several months, I heard you broke up, but isn't it time you put aside whatever happened and move on?"

I sighed. "Mom, nothing happened, we just realized we weren't right for each other. You and I have had this conversation a bunch of times."

Now she was the one to sigh, and I could predict her words before they came. "I'm sure if you just got a normal job, it would all work out. I hear they're hiring makeup ladies at Macy's. That would be a nice safe job. Joe'd take you back if you worked at Macy's. I even got you an application. All you have to do is fill it in and turn it in."

Ok, so she'd never gone so far as to get an application for me. Of course, I'd never broken up with what she probably saw as my last chance for marriage before. Not for real, anyway. "Mom, I'm not going to work at Macy's. Please put Dad on the phone."

She gave a long-suffering sigh and then I heard her calling for my dad, although it was muffled, like she'd covered the mouthpiece. Before they'd married, my dad was in the Army, and I figured that if the military had made Ranger how he was, it had to have produced at least one other finely tuned fighting machine that my dad would know and that would be willing to train me, since, while my dad had training and my complete trust, I was pretty sure he wouldn't want to train his daughter how to beat someone up. Not to mention, it wouldn't be very secretive, and I didn't really want Joe or Ranger to know about it.

After what seemed like a long time, my dad came onto the phone. "Yeah?"

"Hey, Dad." I paused, trying to figure out how to word my request and then knowing that it'd either sound dumb or it wouldn't, but thinking longer probably wouldn't help. "I want to get some training without anyone knowing about it, and the only people who I can think of to train me, I don't want training me. Do you know of anyone who could train me?"

My dad was silent for a moment and I wasn't sure if that was because he was puzzling over my strange request or asking God why he'd been given such a strange daughter. Maybe both. Maybe neither. "What are you hoping to get training in? And why don't you want your people training you?"

"I want to learn to shoot, fight, and defend myself. And I want to get in good enough shape to actually be able to do any of that against someone who's in excellent shape and trying to hurt me. And the people I can think of are Joe, Ranger, or Tank, and I don't want them training me because the whole point of getting training is so that I won't need anyone's help ever again. I'm tired of people running to my rescue. It was sort of nice, in a knight in shining armor way, for a while, but when your knight in shining armor is a hooker-turned-office filer, it gets a bit humiliating."

My dad spoke with rare emotion, sounding a bit sympathetic. "Honey, you'll always need someone. That's part of being human. No matter who you are, you always need help from someone."

I snorted. "Not true. Joe doesn't need anyone. Ranger doesn't need anyone."

His next words sounded a bit amused. "So why do cops have partners? To hold the coffee while they're carrying the doughnuts? And what do you think Ranger has 'his men' for? Decoration?" I was silent, not really knowing what to say. "Anyway, I have a few people who owe me favors. I'll talk to them and see if any of them have some free time and a lot of patience." As I made an annoyed sound, he chuckled. Then, again surprising me with emotion, he added. "Goodnight. I love you."

I smiled. "I love you too, Daddy."

I hung up and put the phone back. Then I sat on the couch for a while, just thinking.

What my dad had said made perfect sense, but I'd not really thought about it before. Of course Ranger wasn't invincible, nor was Joe. I'd seen both of them in pain before. And that meant they were human which meant, according to my dad, that they needed help. Surprisingly, I could think of evidence that Ranger needed help more than I could for Joe. Because I'd grown up with Joe, while Ranger had been a more recent, very mysterious, addition to my life, I'd always had a much easier time remembering that Joe was a fallable human than Ranger. I smiled as I remembered when I'd told Ranger I was trying to decide if he was human.

But now, thinking about it, I could think of a few times when Ranger had needed help. When we'd needed to find his daughter, he'd asked for help from a lot of people to find her and then safely get her back. When he needed to get an FTA out of a bar without causing a big scene, he'd send me in to distract them.

And, I realized, Joe had needed my help before too. When he'd been FTA, I'd helped him find out the truth and clear him. Of course, then I'd locked him in a freezer truck with some dead bodies, and he probably didn't appreciate that. And when Stiva ran him over and broke Joe's leg, I'd helped him while he recovered.

I yawned, breaking off my train of thought. Satisfied that I wasn't completely useless, I decided to go to bed.

(A/N: Ok, so this chapter was sort of weird/it sucked, and I'm sorry. I just sort of started typing it and then decided to leave what I'd typed. Possibly not the best choice, but I don't really want to rewrite it. So, bear with me and hopefully the rest of the fanfic will be much less sucktastic.)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Same as before. Either you remember it, or you don't. If you don't, look at chapter 1.

And thanks to all my reviewers :) I love reviews. I'd tell you how much, but I promised last chapter not to have any emotional declaration-of-love scenes for a while ;).

Chapter 3

There was a big, scary-looking man on the other side of the door. I peered at him through the peephole again and then decided to get my gun before opening the door, just in case. Not that it was loaded, but it seemed like a good gesture, plus it was a good step on the way to being trained. I think. Seems like it anyway.

As I padded towards my cookie jar, I wished I was wearing something more intimidating looking than a large t-shirt, some pajama pants, and some socks. Preferably something all black. I grabbed my gun just as Mr. Scary knocked again. This time, he spoke.

"Stephanie Plum?" His voice was pretty scary too.

I ran the last few steps to the door, opening it carefully, but leaving the chain on. I peeked out at him. "Who're you?"

He looked me over with what appeared to be amusement, but it was hard to tell, because he didn't really change his expression much. "I'm Dillon Marks. I was told you wanted some training."

I made a small sound in the back of my throat, part-embarrassment, part realization. I closed the door, took off the chain and then let him in. Dillon Marks definitely looked military, but he didn't look old enough to know my father. He looked to be in his early- to mid-twenties. His dark hair was cut military short, and his green eyes were expressionless, as was his whole expression, actually. He was tall and muscular, which is pretty much what made me decide that he was scary. His skin had been tanned by the sun, but it was still a lot lighter than Ranger's. I also noticed that he had a gun strapped to his hip, which didn't really calm me down much. I wondered how he knew I needed training, since there was no way he'd served with my dad, unless he had stopped aging as soon as he joined the Army.

"Your dad and my dad served together." I guess he could sense my thoughts. That must be part of basic military training, since everyone can do it. Ranger, Joe, Tank, all the other Merry Men. Then I realized that a lot of other people could too, and I was pretty sure Lula'd never been in the military. Maybe it was part of basic human training and I'd somehow missed it. I noticed that Dillon was looking amused again. I gave him a quizzical look. "I think it's just because you're very easy to read. Plus, you sometimes say your thoughts aloud."

I now looked at him even more curiously. "How do you know that? You've known me five seconds." As I asked him, I pointed at him, accidentally bringing the gun along for the ride.

Dillon raised an eyebrow, then gently took it out of my fingers. "Loaded?" He checked and then made a disgusted sound. "Of course not." He looked up at me. "Ok, lesson one. If you aren't going to load your gun, you might as well leave it in your cookie jar. Guns tend to raise the stress of a situation, making other people pull out weapons. If your 'weapon' actually isn't one, you're going to be in a worse situation than you were before you took out your gun."

I stared at him, mouth gaping. Him knowing about me talking to myself was a bit weird, and the whole not-loading-my-gun thing was a bit weird too. But the fact that he knew I kept my gun in my cookie jar was just plain creepy. I was just considering whether I should ask him what was going on and give him a chance to explain, or run away, call Ranger and let this 'Dillon Marks' guy explain once he was handcuffed and being held away from me by a few Merry Men. Of course, that was the exactly the kind of thinking I was trying to stop, so I drew myself up and glared at him and was about to ask when I noticed he was laughing.

"Merry Men?" He couldn't speak for a bit, because he was laughing so hard, but then he recovered and answered all my questions with a single sentance. "I know Ranger." I could feel myself blushing. I didn't want him knowing that's what I referred to Ranger's men as. Too late, I guess. "Your dad called my dad, who called me. That's how I found out you need training, but I've heard enough about you and seen you enough to know about you. I'm not one of his 'Merry Men,' but I work for Ranger when he needs extra help on a job. For example, I'm often extra security on your distraction jobs to make sure you don't get killed."

I felt myself blushing and I quickly moved onto the next subject, not wanting to talk to him about distraction jobs. "So you'll train me? I don't want anyone else to know."

He nodded. "I have a house you can stay at while I train you, or you can stay here and I'll come get you every day."

I looked at him thoughtfully. I sort of wanted to stay at his house because it was pretty much gauranteed to be safe, so I could stay out of bad situations at least until I was able to get myself out of them. But I didn't want to say that. It seemed sort of forward to just invite myself to live with him.

He smiled. "I invited you, remember. So, pack some stuff and we'll go." He paused then added. "Practical clothes. I don't know what you normally wear, but nothing like what you'd wear for a distraction job. That's definitely not good running, fighting, or shooting gear." I gave him a 'no duh' look and went into my room to pack and get dressed.

After carrying my bag out and putting it at Dillon's feet, I pulled out my cell phone. He raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

As I dialed Joe's home number, knowing he'd be at work, so I could just leave a message, I explained. "I can't just dissapear. Joe and Ranger'd probably freak out. I trust that my dad will make sure my family knows I'm ok, but I don't want there to be a search party out looking for me while I'm staying at your house." By now, Joe's phone had rung enough times that I was transferred to the answering machine. After listening to his message and then the beep, I went into a quick, brief explanation. "Hey, Joe. Just wanted you to know I'm leaving. I'll be back eventually, but I don't know how soon. Anyway, I'm just telling you so that you don't think I've been kidnapped or something like that. Bye." Then I hung up and immediatey held down 1 until my phone speed-dialled Ranger, then I realized what I'd done. "Crap." I pushed end, hanging up before it connected, I hope.

I looked up at Dillon. "I don't want to talk to Ranger, I just want to leave a message. Is there any number that he won't answer, but that he'll check?"

Dillon shook his head. "Not unless you leave a message with Tank or something. But Tank'll probably answer his phone right away and tell Ranger. But that'd at least be a bit more indirect than just calling Ran-"

He was cut off by my phone ringing. I glanced down and saw that it was Ranger. "Crap." I repeated. Sighing, I flipped open my phone and held it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, Babe. You called but it got cut off after one ring for some reason. Did you need something?" I was silent, trying to decide what to do. I could hang up and then go with the 'call Tank' method, but that would be really dumb. Plus, it'd annoy Ranger, and make him know something weird was going on. "Babe?" I heard a bit of concern in Ranger's voice.

"I was trying to get your answering machine."

Now I heard genuine confusion. "Why?"

"Um...to talk to you without you talking back." As soon as I said it, I wanted to rewind the moment. Dillon was watching me with a huge smile on his face, obviously on the verge of laughter. From the other side of the phone came silence, but I was pretty sure Ranger was just trying to figure out what to say, and not giving me a chance to talk without him talking back.

"Uh..." I wasn't sure if I'd ever heard Ranger say 'uh' before, but it was sort of funny. He seemed to be struggling with what to say and finally just repeated his former question. "Why?"

"So you wouldn't ask any questions, like you're doing right now. This is exactly why I wanted to talk to your answering machine, not mine. It'd just accept what I was saying without being annoying." Dillon laughed and I gave him a 'shut up!' look. He complied, although he was obviously having a hard time.

"Who's with you?" Ranger sounded curious and something else. There were several choices of what the 'something else' might be, none of which made any sense: suspicion, jealousy, posessiveness. Maybe a mix of all three, though it still didn't make any sense.

"Um, no one. Look, would you just hang up and let me talk to the answering machine, and then not listen to it for a few hours?" Dillon looked like he was going to laugh again, so I glared at him and then walked away, going into my bedroom and closing the door, so that he couldn't hear me and Ranger couldn't hear him.

"Babe, are you ok? You're acting very strange. I'm just going to come over there, ok? Where are you? You're apartment?"

"No! I mean, yes, I am. But don't come over."

"Babe." Then he hung up. I wasn't totally sure what that 'babe' meant, but it probably meant something along the lines of 'you're going insane, I'm coming over anyway.' Which wasn't good.

I ended my side of the call while jumping off the bed. "Dillon!" I pulled open the door. "We have to go. Ranger's coming over now. How long will it take him to get here?"

"Ten minutes if he drives normally, less if he speeds."

"Great." It was said very sarcastically. "So, grab Rex and my bag and bring them to your car. I'm going to write him a quick note and then we'll go."

I was putting my cell phone back into my pocket when Dillon grabbed it and tossed it onto the couch. "Ranger can track that. If you don't want him to know where you are, don't bring that."

I wondered if Ranger had put a tracking device in my phone or if all cell phones could be tracked, but I didn't stop to ask. Instead, I just ran and grabbed some paper and a pencil off my counter. I wrote a very breif note (Listen to Joe's answering machine since I couldn't talk to yours), which I left where Rex's cage normally was, then grabbed my bag, which Dillon had left as he carried down Rex. I closed the door behind me and locked it, then went as quickly as possible to the elevator, pressing the button that'd bring me to the ground floor. As the doors opened, Dillon appeared, grabbing my bag from me and turning around, going back out to the parking lot. I followed him, running behind him as he ran to a black SUV, throwing my bag into the back seat. I ran around to shotgun and got in quickly.

Dillon started the car and, just as we pulled out of the parking lot, Ranger's truck pulled into it.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer's the same as always.

Oh, and I've never been to Trenton (I've been to Mahwah though, which at least is in NJ), that I can think of, so I don't know how far out of Trenton you'd have to get before you got to wildernessy forests w/ cabin type things. So, if it would take longer than 20 minutes to get from Stephanie's apartment to Dillon's cabin, sorry.

Chapter 4

Dillon swore quietly as we saw Ranger's truck. Pressing the gas down harder, he whipped out of the parking lot just as we saw Ranger get out of his truck. It looked like he was going to check on me before he followed the SUV that had just left the parking lot. Hopefully, he'd only glanced and wouldn't remember the liscence plate or anything like that. If we were really lucky, he wouldn't even remember that there'd been another vehicle. Unlikely, of course, but not impossible.

We drove in silence for a while, and I watched as we left the city. He drove about ten minutes out of Trenton and then turned up a side road into relatively thick forest. He drove a few more minutes up what was apparantely a long driveway before arriving at a large house with a lot of clear space around it. Putting the car into park, he got Rex and my bag and carried both to the house. There he seemed to realize his dilemma. I got out of the car and jogged over to him, taking the keys from his hand and opening the door for him. He thanked me and then preceded into the house.

The front entry area had stairs that went up before making a right angle and going right into the second story hallway. There was also a hallway which had a door to a bathroom. At the end of the hall, I could see a small eating area which was connected to the kitchen, although a counter extended 3/4 of the way between the kitchen and the eating area. Dillon went up the stairs and I followed him. There were two doors on one side of the hallway, two on the other, and one at the end. Dillon nudged a partially open door open with his toe and set Rex down on a dresser in that room. I looked around the room. It was obviously a guest room, since it didn't really have any personalization. Just a bed and another door which I saw led to a bathroom. Plus, of course, the dresser. And a closet. Dillon walked back out and I followed him. He pointed to different doors and told me what each was.

"Next to your room is another spare room which is empty. I can use that to teach you to fight. At the end of the hall is an office room which my mom decided I needed, but which I almost never use. Across from the workout room is another bathroom, though you won't need it since you have one in your room. And across from your room, that door is my bedroom."

I nodded and then he went back down the stairs. I wasn't sure if he wanted me to follow or not. Clearly sensing my dilemma, he shook his head. "You can stay and unpack your stuff and get settled in or whatever."

Nodding again, I returned to my room. Squatting down to peer in at Rex, I spoke to him. "Well, Rex, I'm finally going to stop getting beat up and start beating people up more."

Rex poked his head out, looked at me, twitched his whiskers a bit, then withdrew his head again. Guess he wasn't as excited as I was.

Meanwhile, back at Stephanie's apartment (Ranger's POV)

I knocked on Stephanie's door. When there was no answer I knocked again and then let myself in. The first thing I noticed was the stillness in the apartment, and my heartbeat notched up a bit. Has Stephanie been kidnapped again? Then I saw that Rex was gone and there was a note in his place. Probably the kidnapper wouldn't kidnap the hamster too. I walked over to the note and picked it up, reading it quickly.

_Listen to Joe's answering machine since I couldn't talk to yours. -Stephanie_

What the hell kind of a note was that? Bad enough she wouldn't explain it to me on the phone, but to not explain on the note was even worse. And making me call Morelli to find out what was going on was even worse. I pulled out my cell phone and held down 1 until my phone realized I was trying to call Stephanie. Then I held the phone to my ear. Just as my phone made the 'the other phone is ringing' sound, the couch started playing the Batman theme. I frowned and walked over to it, seeing Stephanie's cell phone on the middle cushion.

I pushed end and looked back at the note. Why would I need to talk to Morelli? A terrible thought suddenly struck me. What if she had gotten back together with Morelly? What if she was _marrying _Morelli? That would explain why she didn't want to tell me on the phone.

Now I had several options. I could call Morelli and ask him where Stephanie was. I could call his answering machine and leave him a message to call me back and then ask him. Or I could go to Morelli's house, break in, and listen to Stephanie's message. The second option seemed pretty wimpy. Plus, I wanted to know where Stephanie was right now. And the third option was illegal. While that wasn't normally a problem, if Morelli caught me, I'm sure he wouldn't be all that understanding. He doesn't like me all that much. The feeling is mutual, of course, but he was a cop, whereas I was someone who'd been a suspected kidnapper four months ago. Sighing, I looked at my cell phone. I couldn't remember Morelli's desk number. I did, however, know the non-emergency number of the police station. But then everyone would know I wanted to talk to him, and there would be a bunch of annoying speculation as to why. Plus, if I just talked to him on the phone, he might not actually tell me what was going on. But if I went there, I could listen to the message myself.

Having made up my mind, I picked up Stephanie's cell phone and put it in my pocket, then left the apartment, locking it behind me and going down to my car. It didn't take that long to get to the police station, and I was soon walking up to the officer at the front desk.

He looked up at me, saw I had no skips with me, and a look of confusion crossed his features. "Yeah?"

"Where's Morelli?" After I asked it, I realized that not only would people still know I was looking for Morelli, but now it would also look like I was coming in person to beat him up, or something like that.

"Um." He looked like he was trying to decide if he should tell me, when suddenly I looked up and saw Morelli across the room, just coming from the back area where all the cubicle/desks (A/N: sorry, my PD knowledge isn't excellent, so I'm not sure what to call it. They have desks in SVU, but some seem to have offices in Psych, and they had these weird halfway cubicle things when I went to the real PD near my house) were. He didn't see me.

I stepped away from the desk. "Morelli!" He looked up and frowned when he saw me. I walked over to him. Before he could ask why I was here, I asked, "Where's Stephanie?"

He looked confused. "What do you mean?"

I held out the note. "I mean she's gone, Rex is gone, and this was in her apartment."

Morelli read it quickly. I'm pretty sure he didn't totally understand it, but he understood enough to know that there would be some sort of explanation on his answering machine. "Come with me."

He went back to his desk, with me following, and pressed the play button on his answering machine. There were three messages, none of which were from Stephanie. "Maybe it's on my home phone." He picked up his phone and I guess called his home machine. He pressed a bunch of buttons, probably the password, or access code, or some such thing, and then he listened. He frowned and pushed another button, I think it replayed the message. Then he shook his head and handed the phone to me. "It's not much better than your note."

"Hey, Joe. Just wanted you to know I'm leaving. I'll be back eventually, but I don't know how soon. Anyway, I'm just telling you so that you don't think I've been kidnapped or something like that. Bye." Stephanie's voice came over the phone in a prerecorded message.

I looked at Morelli. "How do I replay it?" Once he told me, I replayed it. Frowning, I replayed it once more and heard, at the very beginning, 'at your house.' Since it didn't mesh with the rest of the message, I could only assume she'd been talking to someone else in the room with her at the time.

I handed the phone back to Morelli. "Did you hear at the beginning? She was talking to someone else before she started the message. Her car was still at her apartment, so she must have gotten help from someone. Who would she stay with?"

Morelli thought a moment. "I'll call her family, you can call the bonds office. Maybe someone either has her with them or knows where she is."

Fifteen minutes later, we'd called Lula, Vinnie, Connie, Stephanie's parents, and Valerie. No one knew where Stephanie was, although her mom said that her dad might, but he wasn't there right now and to call back in half an hour.

Since it seemed a bit ridiculous to leave and get somewhere else then turn around and drive right back, I decided just to stay there for thirty minutes. Morelli, knowing I'd choose to do that, gestured towards a chair on the other side of his desk and sat down behind his own desk. I looked around at the other cops at their desks, some of whom were working normally, others of whom were looking curiously at me before looking back at the papers on their desk.

Morelli acted normally for a bit, working on whatever it is he was doing, but then I realized he was as uncomfortable as I was. Finally, he put down his pen and looked up at me. "Well, this is awkward."

I nearly smiled but just nodded instead. "So..." I tried to think of something to say. I finally decided to just ask the question I actually cared about. "Are you and Stephanie broken up for real?"

To my surprise, Morelli didn't seem angry or annoyed. In fact, he smiled. "Yeah." I managed to keep from smiling. "I love her, and she loves me" (the urge to smile dissapeared) "but we realized we're never really going to move forward in our relationship. I'm sort of sad, but at the same time, it's a bit of a relief to have some closure and all that." Morelli suddenly seemed to realize that he was talking to _me_, because he glared at me. "Not that it's any of your business."

I didn't reply, but I don't really think he expected me to. We both fell silent for a few more minutes, during which he went back to work, then he looked up at me again. "So..." He paused and then continued with a question that I guess I should have expected, but it still somehow surprised me. "Did you and her ever sleep together?"

I looked at him carefully. He didn't seem like he planned on shooting me should my answer be yes, but you could never really tell with a cop. "In what sense?" He gave me an exasperated look. "She lived with me for a while during the Slayer incident, and, as you know, I stayed in her apartment while my daughter was missing. And we slept together then."

He had definitely tensed up, but he wasn't punching me in the face, which I thought was a good sign. "In a sexual way?"

My automatic response was that any time Stephanie and I were alone together, there was usually something sexual going on, even if it was just sexual tension, but I decided that probably wasn't the best thing to say to someone who'd pretty much been dating her most of the time I'd known her. Instead, I said. "No. She slept, and I slept, we just happened to do it in the same bed." I decided that was pretty truthful. Although there was the time when I'd nearly had her undressed and then Morelli had decided to come over and announce that he was moving into her apartment with us.

Morelli's eyes narrowed. "Based on your expression, that's either a lie or a partial truth." I gave him a small smile that revealed nothing and tacitly told him that I had no intention of saying which it was. "Aside from those two times, was there anything?" I just continued to smile at him. "That time she came home without her underwear, when she was working for you. Had you guys had sex?"

Now I grinned. "No. She actually was doing laundry and then forgot to get her underwear back."

Morelli nodded. He didn't smile, but I could see that he was slightly amused. "Did you guys ever have sex?" Guess he'd decided to drop the 'sleep together' euphamism. I noticed that a lot of the cops around us were listening, some covertly, some obviously not caring if we heard or not.

I didn't know why I'd even been answering up until now. And I didn't know if I wanted to answer or not. I decided to be evasive. "We've made out."

Morelli now also seemed to notice how large of an audience we'd gathered, but he also didn't seem to care. "That wasn't the question, Manoso."

Even if I'd wanted to answer, which I didn't, a ringing cut me off. We both looked at the phone on his desk. Because it was his desk and it could be police business, I let him answer. As soon as he said hello and then heard the other person respond, I'm assuming with a greeting, I knew it was Stephanie's dad.

A/N: Ok, yet another chapter that was pretty much out of character. Sorry. I just didn't really know what to do with them for half an hour and having them talk about Stephanie seemed fun. I hope you didn't mind their out of character-ness. (Well, I actually hope you liked the chapter, but I'd settle for you not hating it.) Anyway, I'll update again soon.

Oh! And Ally, I need to borrow TS for research purposes. (That suddenly made me think of the whole boyfriends for research purposes conversation we'd had. Definitely a weird image) Also, my mom wants me to ask you how you're doing your reading journal things.


	5. Chapter 5

I own nothing except the stuff I own. See Chapter 1 for mor details.

So, I'm rewinding this chapter by a teensie bit so that it's not an awkward beginning of just jumping into a conversation between Joe and Frank. Oh, and I can't remember what Frank'd call Joe or Ranger, so I'm just going to have him call them Morelli and Ranger.

Oh yes, and I just remembered, thank you to Ally for helping me with the problem of Dillon's identity crisis.

Chapter 5

Joe's POV

Ranger was saved from answering my question about whether or not he and Stephanie had had sex because the phone rang just as I finished asking. I picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hi. I was told you called?"

I looked over at Ranger, but he apparantly already knew who it was. "Yeah. Do you know where Stephanie is?"

"I do."

I waited for more of an answer, but none, apparently, was forthcoming. "Um...care to share that information?"

"Not particularly. She doesn't want you or Ranger to know where she is or who she's with."

Even though we'd decided not to be more than friends, I still tensed a bit. "Who is she with?"

"He's no one you need to concern yourself with. Especially since you dumped her."

"I didn't dump her. We came to a mutual agreement that we weren't right for each other." He made a sarcastic 'yeah, sure, whatever you say' kind of noise and I found myself getting a bit annoyed. "Look, I didn't dump her, I love her. And she loves me. We just know that we don't have the kind of love meant for a long term relationship." I hadn't realized that I was raising my voice until Ranger reached over and pried the phone from my hands, giving me a glare. I looked around and saw that everyone was staring at me. Reaching over and pushing a button that would let me hear Frank but him not hear anyone except Ranger, I listened to Ranger talk to him.

"Mr. Plum, I really want to know where Stephanie is."

"And she, as I told Morelli, really doesn't want either of you to know where she is or who she's with." I watched with interest as Ranger tensed up, just as I had, at the mention of someone being with her. Actually, I think he tensed more than me. Guess that answered my 'did you two have sex' question. It actually didn't make me as angry as I'd thought it would. Frank continued. "I trust him, and I know he won't hurt my daughter." His tone seemed to suggest that there was an unspoken 'unlike you.'

Apparently, Ranger detected it too because he tensed up even more. "Mr. Plum, I've never hurt your daughter. I've protected her from people who have tried to hurt her, not the other way around." Frank made the same kind of sound he'd made after I'd said I didn't dump Stephanie. I saw that it had the same effect on Ranger that it had had on me. This phone call was definitely not going excellently.

I was considering taking the phone back when Frank spoke again. "Ranger, I wasn't necessarily talking about physical pain." Before either of us could do anything, he continued. "Now, I'm not going to tell either of you where she is, so I guess you'll just need to figure it out on your own. If you can." There was a click as he hung up.

Ranger took the phone way from his ear and stared at it for a few seconds before I took it away from him and hung up. I spoke sarcastically. "Well, that went well." Ranger's attention returned to me. "Now, do we want to trust Frank that Stephanie is safe, or do we want to try to find her?"

Ranger raised an eyebrow. "I don't know what _you _want to do, but I'm going to find her. For all we know, that guy who's supposedly totally trustworthy is actually a serial killer wanted in thirteen states."

Yeah, and I'm sure the fact that he's a man and alone with Stephanie doesn't factor into your decision to find her at all. I didn't say that, of course. Instead I said, "Well, I'm going to look for her too, so we might as well pool our resources."

Ranger looked like he'd rather not, but he sighed and gave a reluctant nod.

Back to Stephanie's POV

"So, tell me about your relationship with Ranger." Dillon looked over at me as we ate dinner.

"Um." What should I say? "He's my mentor. He was my boss for a while. And he's my friend."

Dillon raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for more. When I didn't say anything, he spoke again. "And that's it?"

"He was also my roommate for a while, and he's saved my life a bunch of times." This seemed like an excellent chance to change the subject. "Which is why I want to get training. I'm tired of needing to be rescued all the time. I want you to teach me how to defend myself, and I want to--"

He cut in. "Be in good enough shape to do it against someone who's in excellent shape and wants to hurt you. I know. So that's it with you and Ranger, as far as you're concerned? He's your friend, your mentor and, although you hate it, he also saves you whenever you need it. Nothing more?"

"And women are supposed to be the gossipers?"

He shrugged. "Well, I know his side of the story, I'm just wondering what your side is."

I leaned forward with interest. "Oh? What's his side of the story?"

He smiled, shaking his head. "Guess you'll have to ask him."

I gave him an annoyed look. During the fiasco with the fake Ranger and Ranger's daughter, and all that, I'd realized I loved both Ranger and Joe. Then there had just been the problem of choosing one. When Joe realized we couldn't have a real, not spend one week every month in the off-again stage, kind of relationship, it sort of made the decision for me. Plus, there was the fact that Ranger was dessert. Dessert was one of the things I enjoyed most in life (if you guessed that another one of those top 10 things was time with Ranger, you win!) and I certainly wasn't going to give up dessert. Certainly not when the rest of the food pyramid suddenly dissapears and I no longer need to (or get to, depending on which way you look at it) choose between healthy food and dessert. Which means I choose Ranger.

Once I'd come to this decision, of course, there was the problem of whether or not Ranger felt the same way. And, the answer I'd come up with every time I thought about it was, no. Sort of depressing, but there you go.

And now, here was someone who knew Ranger's 'side of the story', and refused to tell it to me. That just doesn't seem fair. At all.

"So, what if I tell you my side of the story. Then will you tell me Ranger's?"

Dillon looked at me speculatively. "Maybe. Maybe not." He smiled. "Guess you'll just have to find out."

I glared at him. "Well, sucks for you. Guess you only get to hear his side of the story then." I took another bite of dinner.

He shook his head. "Nice try, but I'm not going to suddenly break down and agree to pour out Ranger's heart just because you say you love him."

I choked on my dinner and coughed before managing to swallow it. "Why would I say that? Who says that's what I'd tell you if I were going to tell you anything?"

"No one, it was a lucky guess. One you confirmed when you nearly killed yourself just now."

"It wasn't a confirmation, there was just...too much pepper on my food." Well, there was actually none, but maybe he'd think I'd put tons of pepper on it.

Based on his expression, he knew about the lack of pepper. He just shook his head again. "Pathetic. At least come up with a good excuse." Pushing away from the table, he cleared both our, now empty, plates, bringing them into the kitchen and putting them in the dishwasher. "Now, I'm going to watch TV. You can join me, or you can sleep, or whatever you feel like doing. But don't get to bed too late because tomorrow we're getting up at five."

Ah yes. I now remembered why I'd never gotten training before.

A/N: And now I have to read a dumb book for school and then write an essay about it, and school starts on Monday. And I haven't written the next chapter. So, I'm not sure when the next chapter will be posted, but it might not be until Monday. So, if it's not till then, I'm sorry. You can spend the time writing me excellent reviews :)


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: see all the other ones

Note to all my readers: Sorry I suck so much. I kept almost writing it, and then I'd be lazy. That's why I didn't update in a month and a half or however long it was. And I know I hate it when people don't update, so I'm really sorry!

To rinskigoddess in particular: First off, let me thank you once again for sending me all the info. I realized, however, that I am really lazy, and I think that part of the reason I didn't update was because I dreaded the idea of trying to incorporate a ton of training into the story. So, I'm sorry that I used up your time and now didn't even put that much in. And now I feel like a horrible person...and I'm not sure I'm effectively communicating that I'm thankful and sorry all at once. But I am (sorry and grateful. Not communicating effectively).

Back to everyone again: I know that I tend to summarize. And I'm sorry, because there is going to be much summary in this chapter, merely because if I make myself write the training scenes in detail, this will probably never get written. So, once again: sorry I suck so much. Now, onto the story.

Actually, quickly before I add to the story: I just re-read the story thus far so I'd remember what's going on and such, and now I feel worse, cause I said I'd update every day in order to make up for the shortness of the chapters...so, hopefully I even have readers still...if so: once again: sorry! And now the story for real. Not that anyone read all this.

Chapter 6

Five am. I was awake at friggin' five am. Whoever invented the military should be shot. Of course, considering the fact that they were probably in it, maybe they were. This made me feel a bit better, so I got up as Dillon pounded on the door again. I shuffled over to it and opened it up, looking sleepily out at him. He looked way too cheerful and energetic. I decided I might as well direct my anger to who deserved it. After all, maybe Dillon loved getting up at five, and the military didn't influence it at all. I decided to share my joy with him.

"You should be shot." Having said this, I closed the door in his face, the slight satisfaction I got from it fading as I heard him chuckling through the door.

Despite the fact that I wanted to go back to sleep, I went into the bathroom and got ready, emerging from my room ten minutes later. I was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, and my hair was pulled into a rather messy ponytail. I wasn't wearing any makeup. Well, ok, some, of course, but not a lot.

I glared at Dillon, daring him to comment on my appearance. Hopefully he remembered that, if he did his job, I'd know how to beat up a man twice my size (aka: Dillon) by the end of the day. That ought to keep him quiet.

Whether it was the glare, the knowledge, or something else, Dillon just gave me an infuriatingly-awake smile, not commenting on anything. Then, he went outside. We warmed up a bit, stretched, and then he took off into the nearby forest. Assuming I was meant to follow him, I jogged after him.

"How far are we running this morning?" Hopefully not too long. I hadn't eaten yet. And it was early. And, oh right, I hated running!

"Knowing won't help you. We'll run until we stop. And we'll stop when we get to the house. Knowing the distance won't make you more or less capable of running them, nor, I've been told, does that knowledge actually give much joy." He sounded a bit amused as he said it. Probably we were running a lot. Bastard.

-

Yes, I was right. Dillon should be shot. After running God-only-knows how many miles (I suppose Dillon knows as well, actually. Not that he decided to tell me), we got back to the house. We ate something. I honestly don't remember what it was, because I was too tired to focus. Which is a big deal for me. I love food. Of course, it was Ranger food. Or rabbit food. Depending on how you want to look at it. They're both the same thing: super nutritious, and not so delicious.

Anyway, after we ate our 'wonderful' breakfast, he brought me up to the empty room, where he taught me how to get away from various kinds of holds, as well as how to take someone down to the ground. I failed at everything the first few times, but by the time we stopped for lunch, I could escape from him and then pin him to the ground. Maybe he was letting me do it, to boost my self-confidence, or some such thing, but I was pretty sure he wasn't. He didn't seem that nice.

When we went down to lunch, I felt rather accomplished. My muscles were all protesting loudly, and I pretty much fell into the chair, but hey: I'd forced Army-man to the ground! That was exciting. Or, it would be, if I hadn't gotten up at five am and run a billion miles before I'd done it.

Dillon walked into the room a few steps behind me, so I watched him walk for a few seconds after I'd sat down. And then he went to get food, so I watched him move some more. And he didn't look at all tired. Or in any pain. He looked like he'd just woken up from a wonderful nap. A nap which had followed a round of sex with someone. That's how happy and relaxed he looked.

I glared at him as he came back with my sandwich. I took the sandwich and peered into it. Something green. Oh well, might as well force it down. I took a bite, still glaring at him.

"You really are a cheerful presence, sunshine. I see why Ranger spends time with you so much. You're brightening up my life, and I've only known you twenty-four hours. Or less."

I said nothing, glaring at him while I chewed my leaf sandwich. He smiled another one of those annoying "I'm full of energy and I know it annoys the hell out of you" smiles, and then took a bite of his sandwich (which he somehow seemed to enjoy. I think he's either an excellent actor, or insane. Maybe both.) Just as he started chewing, his cell phone rang. He pulled it off his belt and looked at it, his eyes widening ever so slightly. So, Army-man could be surprised.

He swallowed quickly. "Speak of the devil." He flipped the phone open and put it to his ear, not bothering to explain his comment. I got it, though, cause he said, "Ranger?" In a 'what is it?' sort of voice. Though, I think I detected a bit of 'good thing this is just a phone, cause I _really_ don't want you to see me/who I'm with, right now' in there as well. I think Ranger noticed it too, cause then Dillion was like, "Nothing's wrong. Why are you calling?"

For two people who were supposedly friends, Dillon wasn't being that nice to Ranger. I gave him an annoyed look, then he raised an eyebrow at me and I realized I was being ridiculous. Why was I trying to make people use nice phone manners with Ranger? It's not like he used nice phone manners with anyone else.

There was silence for a bit as Ranger explained something to Dillon. This thing was apparently bad, because Dillon was frowning by the time he spoke again. "Alright, I'll help. You can just email me any videos you have." He was silent for a bit, and his eyes flicked to me. "Um...yeah, I guess you can drop by if you want. But give me a bit of warning before you do, ok?" Another pause. "Ok." Then he hung up.

He took a bite of his sandwich and then finally spoke to me. "So, here's what's going on." He stopped, taking another bite. Have I mentioned that Dillon needs to be shot? "One of Ranger's men has apparently gone..." He stopped, apparently not knowing what word to use that didn't sound lame. Either he gave up, or the man has no sense of what is lame and what isn't, because he continued with, "to the dark side." I snorted and he gave me an annoyed look and then, I'm sure he did it just to punish me for laughing at him, he took another bit of his sandwich. And then chewed it really slow. Once he'd swallowed, he continued. "One of RangeMan's clients was kidnapped yesterday, and the man who was watching the monitor didn't report it, even though he watched the whole thing. He didn't come into work today, so when it was discovered that she'd been kidnapped, it was pretty obvious what was going on."

"So, why are you telling me this?" While I found it interesting, I didn't entirely know why he thought I should know. Generally I'm kept out of Ranger's life.

"Because, I'm going to help him fix it, so that'll effect you. And..." he grinned, "because I'm going to use it as a training exercise for you."

A/N: Ok. Crap ending. Sorry. I'll update again pretty soon, I think, but I can't honestly know how long it'll take me. And I don't want to give an answer, cause I might not do it by then, and then I'll feel horrible.


	7. Chapter 7

Grah! So sorry I took so long to update! I can't believe it's been more than a year. I just never got back to it, and then I kept not getting back to it. If there's anyone who even wants to read this still, I'm sorry for the ridiculously long wait!

And, of course, insert standard disclaimer here.

Chapter 7

"Go hide in the bedroom." Dillon peered out the window. Very sneakily, of course.

I looked at him skeptically. "Why? And whose bedroom?"

He looked at me like I was insane. "Not mine, of course. Ranger's coming to drop off some surveillance tapes. He'd be unhappy to find you here, but if you were in my bedroom and he somehow found out…" He trailed off, then shook his head. "Well, you'd have to find someone else to train you, because, even if I lived, I wouldn't be much use to you anymore."

Since I figured he was right, at least about Ranger being 'unhappy' (a bit of an understatement, I think. He was probably already annoyed at my disappearance. Not to mention the fact that he'd have had to go to Joe to find out anything), I beat a hasty retreat, flopping down on my bed. I was somewhere between being amused at this childish hiding and annoyed at being sent away. It sort of reminded me of when I was a kid and I'd hide under my friends' beds when my mom came to get me, in an attempt to not be forced to go home. Now, I ended up deciding to accept it, because I really didn't mind being on my bed.

After all, I'd gotten up at five AM again this morning and we'd gone running some horrible distance before our breakfast, which was only slightly less horrible. We'd trained for about an hour before Ranger had called, and that was when I'd gotten banished to my room.

I stopped my musings because I heard quite voices from the front hall. I quietly went to my door and put my ear against it, listening hard. I'd forgotten, though, that the doors opened outwards (apparently, it's harder to kick in a door to get into the bedroom that way), and my door was slightly ajar. The door moved a tiny bit. Not enough, I think, to attract the attention of a normal person.

But then, no one ever said Ranger was normal.

I froze, not sure if I could have been seen or heard. In fact, I suddenly couldn't even remember if this door was in view of the front hall. Still, I decided that it wasn't worth hearing the conversation if I accidentally gave myself away. So, after a suitable pause to make sure I hadn't been heard, I grabbed the door knob and closed the door.

This, unfortunately, made a much louder noise than the tiny noise made when I nudged the door while trying to listen.

The voices stopped instantly. There were a few seconds of silence before Ranger spoke in a casual, slightly teasing voice. I could just imagine him standing there in the front hall, one eyebrow raised. "Did I interrupt something?"

Dillon gave a nervous laugh, and I decided that he needed to work on his 'hiding something from Ranger' skills. Although, come to think of it, I don't think mine are all that great, either. Of course, I'd realized a long time ago that it was futile, so I don't even try any more. Well, except now. I suppose this counted as hiding something from Ranger.

Ranger spoke again, but he had clearly picked up on Dillon's nervousness (if I'd picked up on it, Ranger probably had the whole thing figured out by now), and his voice wasn't as casual any more. He knew Dillon was trying to keep something from him. "Have a hot date, or something?" Though his tone was somewhat teasing, there was also a definite edge of suspicion in it.

Dillon had managed to get a handle on his voice, so that the nervousness was gone. "Well, she's hot, but I'm not sure she's technically a date. We didn't really go out, if you know what I mean." He chuckled, his tone now the relaxed banter of an average American male when hinting at sexual activity.

"Mmhmm." Somehow, Ranger managed to sound both understanding of what Dillon was saying, and also skeptical as to the veracity of the statement. All in that one sound. Amazing. The man's got skills.

"So, I've got the tapes now. Guess you can go. Don't want to keep her waiting any longer than necessary."

To my dismay, I heard footsteps striding down the hall, straight towards my door, from the sound of it. Turning and fleeing to the bathroom, I didn't manage to get in and the bathroom door closed before the bedroom door opened and Ranger was in the doorway, looking at me in astonishment as Dillon lingered awkwardly behind him.

For several long seconds, Ranger and I just stared at each other. A kaleidoscope of emotions flickered across his face: surprise, anger, betrayal, jealousy, possessiveness. All I was feeling was sick. My stomach was a tight knot of dread, and I felt like I might throw up as I saw the horrified look in his eyes as he (incorrectly) put together the puzzle pieces.

I could, of course, guess and understand what Ranger was thinking. After lunch, Dillon and I had each retreated to our respective bathrooms to shower off. We were, now, both dressed of course, but my hair was wet and he had that freshly washed look and smell. It would be easy for an outside observer (read: Ranger) to conclude that we'd just had some passionate shower sex, or maybe showered off after some passionate somewhere-else sex.

Ranger finally stopped looking so horrified, but now, instead, looked totally blank, and his tone was totally dead. "Well, this explains quite a bit."

Both Dillon and I started to protest, but Ranger, turning around and pushing past Dillon, walked out of the room and left us standing there. A moment later, the front door slammed and I heard the sound of his truck starting, accelerating rapidly, and driving away.


	8. Chapter 8

Hooray! Reviews! Again, sorry for the ridiculous wait between 6 and 7. And if anyone feels they haven't gotten their daily/weekly/monthly/whatever-ly snarky comment fix, go ahead and lay'em on me, cause I know I deserve them. A year with no updates is cruel and unusual, and for that I apologize once again.

So, I'm writing this chapter with a paragraph or two of narration, followed by a phone message to Ranger in italics, and then back to the story, and so on. These are phone messages she's leaving throughout this time. Hopefully that makes sense, and you aren't getting confused.

Chapter 8

Belatedly, I realized that it would have been wise to run after Ranger, to try to stop him before he left. At the time, though, I was frozen, and couldn't have run if someone put a gun to my head. While I'm sure the shock of having Ranger think I was having an affair with his friend had something to do with that, I'm willing to give Dillon's workout plan some credit, too.

In the three days that followed Ranger's discovery of me at Dillon's house, I'd learned a lot. Despite my whining, Dillon forced me to go running again that evening, right before dinner. The next two days, we kept up that running schedule of one freakishly long run in the morning and another one at night. Between that time, we spent our time teaching me to fight and shoot. Whenever I got a spare minute (and believe me, those things are rare when you've got Mr. Slave-driver training you), I called Ranger, trying to clear up the misunderstandings. Not that he ever bothered to answer his phone.

_Hey Ranger, it's Stephanie. Look, I know how that might have appeared, when you came to Dillon's house today. But I promise, it wasn't like that at all. Call me back, please, so I can explain._

There wasn't really any relaxation time at all in the training routine. When we weren't sleeping, we were running. When my heart, lungs, and legs threatened to revolt if I didn't stop torturing them, we sparred in the empty room upstairs. When Dillon had added the soreness of being hit and thrown to the ground repeatedly to the soreness of muscle exhaustion, we went to the outdoor range and shot. When my arms could no longer hold up a gun, and I had a headache from sighting down the length of the barrel, he'd finally relent and take me inside so I could eat.

_Ranger, it's me. Maybe you didn't get my message, somehow. Although, I think if you're listening to this one, you'd hear the other one. But whatever. The point is, I want you to call me back. There's a perfectly legitimate reason I was hanging out in Dillon's bedroom. I mean…not his bedroom. A room in his house that has a bed. But isn't his. Bedroom, that is. Actually, you know what? Just ignore everything I just said. But call me back. Please._

The food, of course, was totally unsatisfactory. Mostly salads, whole wheat pasta, fish, stuff like that. Not that there's anything wrong with any of those foods, necessarily. But…come on! Who doesn't have a single piece of worthless white bread in their house?! Dillon didn't even have peanut butter. I commented on this once, told him it's full of protein, to which he replied that it's also full of salt, fat, and partially hydrogenated oil. I have no clue what partially hydrogenated oil is, but I'm pretty sure that whatever it does to you, it'd totally be worth it just to eat something that actually tastes good.

_Ranger, this is ridiculous. Pick up your phone for crying out loud! A couple days ago, I couldn't get your answering machine when I asked nicely. Now it's all I can get. Way to delay gratification._

To make matters worse, Dillon didn't even let me eat without interruption. Sure, the food left a lot to be desired, but couldn't I at least _try_ to get some enjoyment from it? No. Apparently not. All our meals were either spent in front of the TV, watching surveillance tapes from the client's house, or else going over the bad guy's employee file. One time, Dillon didn't bring any of that to the table, so I thought maybe we could eat like normal people, with no talk of guns or kidnappings or anything. Nope: that'd just be too much to ask for, right? Instead, he spent the meal grilling me about where I thought the person was now, tiny details that I was apparently supposed to magically pick up in the tape, and what would be the best way to attack their hideout to capture them without getting hurt.

_Ranger, I don't know what you want me to say. Well, apparently it doesn't matter, since you won't pick up your phone. How am I supposed to say the magical forgiveness words and have you forgive me if A: I don't know what they are and B: you never answer this friggin' thing?! Seriously Ranger. This is dumb._

When I didn't magically remember the moment when the bad guy accidentally brushed the third finger on his left hand over the edge of the second window from the right side of the screen…well, guess what happened then? That's right! I got to watch the movie five more times that night. Taking notes. Wee! Seriously, the next time we go to the range, the man I shoot is not going to be the one made of paper. If you get my drift. I don't understand how Mr. Evil expects me to function on five hours of sleep, eating foliage, working out until I can barely get up the stairs to my bed at the end of the night (which, might I add, is sometimes technically morning).

_Fine. You know what? I didn't want to do this on an answering machine, because how lame is that, but whatever. I'm just going to throw out all the "magic words" that I think you might be waiting for, and hopefully one of them is right. "I didn't sleep with Dillon." "I'm not at all attracted to Dillon." "I think Dillon is the spawn of Satan and I am even now planning his demise." "I love you." There. Any of that inspire a longing to answer this stupid thing next time it rings? Or, here's a crazy idea, maybe you could CALL ME BACK?!_

He denied it every time I called him on it, but I'm pretty sure Dillon started taking out his annoyance on me. Because Ranger was having a pissy, sulky moment, he wasn't liking Dillon too much. Each time Dillon went to a meeting with Ranger (I loved those things, they were pretty much the only time I got to relax for an hour and a half while Mr. Evil was gone) Ranger would, according to Dillon, remain frosty and distant the entire time, no matter what Dillon said. Since Dillon was taking all my contributions and ideas and claiming them for himself, I really wasn't pitying him too much. Of course, he denies that too. He says he's presenting all of his own ideas, and that the only reason he's showing me the tapes is to train me, not to get any ideas from me.

_Ranger, you're being a moron. Call me back._

A/N: -chuckle- Well, I thought the phone messages were amusing. This was my way of summarizing those three days so I didn't need to detail each run and gunshot and so on, but hopefully without boring you or saying "And then we ran. And then we shot guns. And then we beat each other up. The end." So, hopefully you enjoyed reading it. I liked writing it. :) O' course, now I need to figure out what happens next. Hmm...that's a problem.


	9. Chapter 9

Insert standard disclaimer here. Also, thanks to all the reviewers. Yes…another long wait between the last chapter and this one. And I realize this chapter's really short. Sorry 'bout that. On the bright side, it wasn't a year. Hooray!

Chapter 9

**Ranger's Point of View**

As I walked into the room, silence fell. Not just a quiet, business-like hush, but the dead silence of workers who know their boss is pissed off and they have nothing to present to make him feel any better.

"Well?" I raised an eyebrow and waited.

Tank was the first to willingly interact with me. Getting up from the chair where he'd been sitting beside one of the newer men, he crossed the room to me. "Can we talk? Somewhere else?" Without waiting for my answer, he turned and headed towards the meeting room.

For a moment, I just glared after him, annoyed at his presumption that I'd follow along. Then, I realized I was getting a bit too sulky for my own comfort and, with a (slightly huffy) sigh, I trailed after him.

As soon as we were both in the room, he closed the door and turned to me with a serious expression on his face. "Look, Ranger. You're my best friend, and I understand that you're upset. I mean this in the kindest way possible." He paused a moment and then said, some annoyance in his voice. "Snap out of it! So, Steph's sleeping with Dillon. Fine. So what? It's not like you had any claim on her, and you certainly weren't progressing the relationship. What they do is none of your business. What _is_ your business is the fact that we have a client who has now been missing for nearly a week, kidnapped by one of our own men, and you're too busy moping around and being the PMS Queen to contribute to the search."

I scowled at his dubbing of me as "the PMS Queen." Before I could say anything, though, he continued. "Don't deny it, Ranger. You've been snappish, unnecessarily critical when people offer their thoughts, and all broody and depressed. It's gotten to the point that no one wants to talk to you because they're worried you'll fire them or something. It's been three days since you found out about Steph. Three days where you've been worthless, everyone else has been scared to share their ideas, and nothing has gotten accomplished. Now, either you go upstairs and mope in your apartment, so that the rest of us can actually work, or else you stop the little pity-party and start being a productive member of this team."

He gave me no chance to reply to any of that before he turned and, opening the door, left the room. As the door automatically began to swing closed again, I glared at the shrinking opening through which Tank had just left.

Of course…he was right. I probably _had_ been obnoxious the past three days. I'd yelled at anyone who brought up an idea that didn't seem right, glared at everyone who didn't present any ideas at all, and nearly beheaded the tech guy who told me that a bunch of the cell phones had some malfunction and needed to be replaced. No one's ideas were perfect, so I shouldn't have been so mean; after all, it wasn't like I was exactly coming up with tons of wonderful ideas. I certainly couldn't blame people for staying quiet, after they'd seen how I treated people whose ideas I didn't like. And it wasn't the tech guy's fault we got a bad batch of cell phones which had suddenly broken and were now worthless as anything other than a way to tell time. I'd known all of this, but hadn't cared. Instead, I'd been a jerk, hence Tank's new nickname for me.

Heaving a sigh, I turned and headed out of the room. Time to get back to work, I suppose. As angry, betrayed, and sad as I felt, I couldn't keep moping about Stephanie and Dillon. There was plenty of time for that once the client was safe.


	10. Chapter 10

Ack. It's been over two years since I started this thing and it still isn't finished. I always meant to get back to it, and I loved it when someone new would find my stories, go through, and write reviews on all of them, but somehow I just never got around to that. I'm sorry for that, and thank you so much to everyone and anyone who has left me reviews, asked me to finish this, or favourited me or my stories. I'm not really sure where this is going, or how the case will be solved, but I figure I should at least give another chapter and work on figuring it out instead of just ignoring it because I don't want to think. I'll post as I get it figured out, and I'll try to do that quickly. :)

So, to everyone who's followed my work – sorry for the long pauses and thank you so much for your comments and encouragement. I really have appreciated them, even if I've not given any indication of that by writing more.

Chapter 10

Yawning, I rolled over in bed, opening my eyes and then blinking them shut again against the bright light that streamed in through the window. The sunshine was lovely, warming my skin and, as I opened my eyes again, more slowly this time, illuminating the room quite beautifully. Dust motes danced in the air, shimmering in the morning sunlight, and the birds chirped outside, their cheerful songs drifting in through the cracked-open window. I smiled, stretching out to my full length, palms pressed against the headboard as I arched my back, enjoying the feeling.

I felt wonderful. It had only been a week and a half since I had started training, but already I could feel the difference. I didn't know that was even possible. Wasn't it supposed to take a while? Apparently not – I could already feel strength in my body that hadn't been there before, my pants were fitting more loosely as I slimmed down, and my face had lost a little bit of its roundness. I wasn't looking like an Olympic athlete or anything, and wouldn't be looking like that for quite a while, but at least I could run a mile without wanting to throw up, curl up into a ball, and die.

I'd adjusted to the food, and, while part of me missed things that actually tasted good, I could deal with this. Plus, as I said, my body felt better than it ever has for as long as I can remember – it might actually be worth the fact that everything I ate tasted like cardboard.

Today I felt better than ever before. Yesterday I'd kept pace with Dillon for the first two miles of our run before he had to slow down a bit, I'd shot an entire clip of bullets within the first two rings on the target, and I'd just had the best night's sleep I'd had in…my thoughts froze, horror filling me. In a week and a half.

I rolled back over, bolting upright as I looked over at my alarm clock. 9:47 AM. What?! How…why…? This was bad! Something was wrong. I hadn't slept past five AM since starting training. Once, a few nights ago, I'd slept in, automatically hitting the snooze button, but Dillon had still gotten me up.

This morning, though, was clearly different. There'd been no Dillon wake up call, no knock on the door, no one yanking the blanket off of me and dumping ice water on me when I failed to wake up. Which was bad. It meant Dillon hadn't been around to wake me up. It meant, simply put, that something was wrong. Dillon was gone? Hurt? Dead?

It was like someone had poured icy water down my throat – my stomach felt frozen, shivers running up my spine at the thought of someone hurting my teacher. Oh, sure, I whined about him and had more bad nicknames for him than most people had for all of their enemies combined, but I really did like the guy. He was training me, despite the hassle to him, and he always knew whether I needed to be teased and goaded into working out or if compliments and encouragements would work better. Despite the fact that he'd taken away all that I love in the world (peanut butter, chocolate, and sleep were rating pretty high up there right now) I didn't want him being hurt, no matter what I muttered under my breath as we trained.

I got out of bed, about to run to the door and then pausing, Dillon's words sounding in my head - "don't just let your passion rule you. You're smart, Stephanie, and you've got good instincts. But you're not going to help anyone if you run into situations without being prepared. Better to slow down a little, make sure you can handle what you're headed towards, and then go in, than be too hasty and end up getting everyone killed." Right. Better to take things slow, make sure I was ready, and then go. I was hoping that whatever had happened to Dillon was just a result of him having been asleep at the moment. If he'd been fully alert and fighting back and had _still_ been incapacitated, I didn't stand a chance. I was good, yes, and getting better with every day. But better than Dillon? No – I wasn't even equal to him. I was a fast learner, and (maybe this was a bit overconfident but oh well – I was feeling good about my training so far) might get to the point where I could match him, someday, but I wasn't even close. Not yet. Not now.

I dressed quickly, even pulling on my shoes – if I had to kick someone, a booted foot was going to hurt a lot more than a bare one – and then grabbed my gun, checking that it was fully loaded before slipping it into the holster that Dillon had started me wearing about a week before whenever I wasn't sleeping. As he'd said I would be, I was now completely used to it, and the weight of my weapon on my hip felt natural, even a little comforting, rather than awkward and strange as it had at first. I walked to the door, and then paused once more. Why was my gun holstered? That wasn't going to help at all. I pulled it out, removing the safety, and then walked out the door, beginning my hunt through the house to find who or what had hurt Dillon. I went upstairs first, heading for his room. Part of me still clung to the frail hope that he might be sleeping. Maybe the power had gone out during the night, or something, and knocked out his alarm clock. I knew that wasn't it (he'd told me he woke up at four-thirty on his own every day and no longer had an alarm) but…oh well. I'd rather look around than accept that my mentor was dead and someone dangerous was in the house.

I reached his room, my breathing picking up speed a tiny bit. He may have made me stronger physically and intellectually, but he'd not dealt with my emotions. Right now I was getting a bit nervous. Or…ok. Fine. A lot nervous. Did I really want to walk into the room? What if he was laying in bed, dead and bloody? What if his assailant was still in there? What if…? I stopped myself. Ok. Time to get a grip. Hand shaking just a little, I reached for the door handle. I gripped it, not quite turning it yet, and then took one more deep breath, trying to convince myself that I was prepared for whatever I might find behind the door, and then I turned the handle, swung the door open, and stepped inside.

Wow…anticlimactic, much? There was nothing here: no dead body, no sleeping Dillon, no crazy ninja killer leaping out to slay me. Just slightly rumpled sheets, a jacket thrown over a chair, and the same happy-bird sounds coming through his window as had come through mine. Ooo. Sinister. Terrifying. I rolled my eyes at myself, turned to leave, and then shrieked, adrenaline shooting into my veins as I leapt back and away from the man who now stood before me.

A/N: There you go. :) I think I have the next chapter planned out, as well, so I should get it up soon. I think she sounds a little un-Stephanie-ish but that's because I've been writing only with my own characters for the past year and not with her. Theoretically I'll figure her out again. Until then…enjoy this oddly different Stephanie, I suppose. ;)


	11. Chapter 11

"Woah. Easy, sunshine." Dillon reached out as though to grab my arm. I wasn't sure if it was to prevent me from shooting him with the gun that I'd already gotten half up on instinct, or if it was to keep me from falling over as I leapt back. Either way, he dropped his hand back to his side before he touched me, seeing that I'd recovered from my brief shock. "Any particular reason you're wandering around my room with a gun? Surely it's not you finally deciding to act on your belief that I should be shot for getting you up so early? Chose kinda an odd day to follow through on that - I let you sleep today. You're welcome."

I'd been staring at Dillon in stunned silence for a few seconds, confusion and relief warring for control of me. Eventually, confusion won and, as Dillon finished teasing me, I spoke. "Why...why aren't you dead? You let me sleep on purpose?"

Dillon raised an eyebrow. "Uh...yeah. You didn't see the note? I left it on your bedside table. You were supposed to stay in your room 'till I came and got you, 'cause we're having a meeting."

Now I was the one making the questioning expression. ""We" being...?" I didn't get time to finish that question because just then Ranger appeared, coming up the stairs. "Oh..." Well...this was great. Not only did Ranger already, apparently, think I was sleeping with Dillon (and he wasn't willing to listen to my explanations or respond to them, clearly) but now here we were standing in Dillon's bedroom when Dillon was meant to be off doing secret-meeting-y stuff downstairs. Wonderful. "Uh...hi Ranger."

"Hi..." He sounded oddly...I don't know. Unsure, maybe. Which is not a word I normally associate with him. He even looked vaguely confused, and his eyes slid away from me to lock on Dillon, who was grimacing slightly. "Are you two...?"

Before he could finish the question, I was speaking. Or...well...scolding. I wouldn't quite say I was yelling at Ranger, but I was definitely annoyed. Angry, even. Maybe it was because of the adrenaline still coursing through my veins after the whole "Dillon is murdered and the killer's coming after me next" scare. Maybe it was just the pent up frustration of having tried and failed to get in contact with him since I'd last seen him. Either way, I was suddenly stalking across the hall, giving him my best death glare and coming to a halt about six inches in front of him, glaring up at him. "No. We're not. As you know perfectly well, since I left you like nine-hundred messages. Apparently, though, you're too busy to return my calls or whatever. Well, fine. I wouldn't want to cut into your time or keep you from your important schedule. You two go back to the meeting. I'm going for a run. Dillon, call me when _he_'s gone." I was already walking past Ranger towards the stairs, but I paused to jerk my thumb over my shoulder at the male to whom I'd referred as "he" in such a vicious tone.

As I jogged down the steps, shoving my gun back into its holster as I did, there were a few seconds of silence behind me before Ranger spoke, "she's...going for a run?" He sounded stunned, almost to the point of being insulting, except that I had the feeling that at least half of his surprise was a result of my acidic tone when I spoke to him. Well, good. Screw him.

Reaching the ground floor, I broke into a run before I was even outside, cutting quickly through the house and leaving through the back door. I know I should have warmed up or stretched or something, but I didn't. Instead, I just stepped up my pace and ran across the vast field that surrounded Dillon's house ("no reason to give someone cover if they're trying to attack me" apparently.) I was headed in a new direction, not really wanting to follow the normal paths we took on our runs. I was pushing myself, legs eating up the ground as my breath quickly progressed from "regular" to "ragged gasping" mode. By the time I'd crossed the field and reached the tree-line, I forced myself to slow down. Sure, running quickly was letting off my annoyance and anger, but I couldn't keep that up and I didn't really think it'd be all that therapeutic to collapse, panting, in the grass less than a quarter-mile away from the house. No, that'd just be pathetic.

I settled into a slower pace, one I knew from the morning runs that I could keep for a really long time. Ignoring the vibration of my phone at my hip (there was no way they were done with the meeting already and I didn't really feel like talking to anyone just yet) I got in the zone. I lost track of time as I ran, slipping back into my habit of paying no attention while I ran. Tuning things out while I ran with Dillon tended to help because I didn't notice how long we'd been running so I wasn't agonizingly aware of the fact that we'd run obnoxiously large distances and still had equal or greater distances to run before he'd bring me back. With him, it was safe. _He_ kept perfectly aware, so I wasn't going to get shot or anything. Now? Maybe not the wisest idea.

I didn't get shot, at least, but I did trip. Suddenly I was rolling down a short hill and coming to stop in a cluster of bushes. Rather uncomfortable bushes, at that. I eased myself out of the semi-crushed foliage and then froze, only halfway standing. I was motionless for a second or two and then I ducked back down into the bushes. In front of me was a house. More importantly - in front of that house was a car. Not just any car, though. It was a car owned by the employee who'd gone missing. The one involved in the kidnapping scheme. We'd been trying to figure out any properties connected with him but so far that hadn't been working. Until now, apparently.

Crouching down a little more, I pulled out my cell phone and flipped it open. Seven missed calls. Oh. I hadn't noticed it vibrating that much. I guess I really had been in the zone. This was confirmed when I saw the time. It was two hours after I'd stormed out of the house. I hadn't meant to run that long but, now that I was still and focusing on the world again, I was noticing that my body was not happy with me. Each breath was painful and laboured, and my muscles were about ready to die. I sat down, because my trembling legs were not enjoying the crouch I'd dropped into.

I dialled Dillon's number and, as soon as he answered, cut off what he started to say, my voice low even though I didn't see any sign that the inhabitant of the house was around. "Shut up. I found the kidnapper. Or...his car, anyway."

There was a beat of silence and then Dillon spoke, a hint of surprise colouring his words. "How...? Where are you right now?"

"I'm outside the house. I dunno where I am in relation to you. Can't you trace the phone or something?"

"Yeah. It'll take a bit, though. Hold on. Are you in a secure location?" After these words I could hear muffled murmuring as he talked to someone else in the room. A moment later I heard the faint sound of typing.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Secure enough, I think." Though patience had never really been my strong suit and, even now, I was already wanting to get up and head into the house. Dillon had taught me enough, though that I, grudgingly, stayed there. At least until he told me that they had my position and were on their way. "Alright, thanks. See you in fifteen minutes, then." I hung up the phone.

And now what? Sit around for fifteen minutes doing nothing? Not particularly tempting. I might as well at least look at the house, right? Try to figure out if the woman we were looking for was even there, right? The more information I could give to them when they got here, the better.

With that in mind, I headed for the house, keeping low even though I was pretty sure no one was there. About three-quarters of the way there, I realized that, if someone was there, they were going to see me anyway when I broke in to the house. No reason to break my back. I straightened and continued upright the rest of the way to the house.

Just as I reached the steps up to the front door, it swung open, stopping me in my tracks. There, not five feet away from me, was the employee we'd been looking for. He hadn't seen me yet; he was turning back to lock the door. I glanced back to the bushes, wondering if I could make it there before he saw me. Probably not. Alright then. If he was going to see me one way or the other…

I stepped forward, clearing my throat and, as he turned quickly around, eyes wide with surprise, I gave him a bright smile. "Hi. I'm sorry to bother you, I see you're on your way out, but I was wondering if I could use your phone for a second? I was out running and didn't pay attention to where I was going and I fell down your hill over there." I jerked my thumb in the direction of the hill, where a trail of crushed undergrowth offered evidence of my fall. "My cell phone's not working out here. Can I use your phone to call someone to come get me?"

His attention, halfway through my little spiel, had fastened on the gun at my hip, and he looked nervous. "Uh…what's with the gun?"

I looked down at it and then gave a tiny laugh, trying to pretend I'd just now noticed its existence. I doubt he bought it, but oh well. "Oh, that? I bring a gun with me when I run in case I run into a bear or something." Were there bears out here? I had nooo idea. But hey, there were trees, and bears lived in the forest, right? I thought so. Not that my little pistol would do anything against a bear.

"I…see…" He looked me over. "If you give me your gun you can come in and use my phone." Guess he didn't trust me. Smart kid. And that's what he was, really. Just a kid. He looked young, maybe nineteen or twenty, a gangly, nerdy-looking boy. Not really what I thought of when I imagined Rangeman staff.

I nodded. "Sure, no problem." I took the gun out, noticing him tensing as I did, and then held it out to him, butt first. He hesitated a second, eyeing me warily, and then took it from me, shoving it into his waistband and unlocking the door. I walked in front of him back into the house, looking around as he took the lead and led me into the kitchen. Nothing screamed "prison to a kidnapped woman" but then, I hadn't really expected there to be a big neon sign.

He pointed me towards the phone and I walked towards it. I didn't really need to call anyone. I was considering calling my own voicemail back at my apartment and leaving myself a message, just so I could pretend to talk and then claim that someone was on their way to get me and ask if I could stay in his house while I waited. I didn't get that far, though. Just as my hand reached the phone, my cell phone started vibrating.

I froze and glanced over at the man (whose name was Reginald, if you're curious. Not all that badass, but now that I'd seen him in person I felt that it almost fit) who was eyeing me suspiciously. "I thought you said your cell phone was broken…"

"I…guess it's fixed…" Not wanting to have him question me further, I quickly pulled out the phone and answered it. Dillon's voice came over the phone asking me where I was. "Oh, I got lost while I was out running. A nice man let me use his phone because I thought my cell was broken, but now it turns out it's working after all." As I said this I smiled briefly at Reginald, the picture of innocence, I hoped.

There was a moment of silence across the line and I could see Dillon sitting there in stunned, horrified stillness. Then, he spoke again. "_Please_ tell me that the "nice man" is not who I think it is?"

I ignored the question, instead pretending he'd asked where I was. I looked up at Reginald, about to ask for his address, and then stopped at the look on his face. When he spoke, his voice held an odd combination of shock and anger. "I…you…I know who you are. You're that chick Ranger's in love with."

I shook my head. "Nope. That I am not." Not that I exactly felt great about that.

"Yeah you are. I knew you looked familiar." His eyes had narrowed into angry slits now, but they widened once more as he looked at my phone. "Is that Ranger?" He was suddenly moving forward, reaching for the phone. I tried to keep hold of it but, as Reginald punched me in the stomach, I yelped and dropped it. It skittered several feet away, across the linoleum floor.

He moved after it but I reached up and grabbed his shirt, yanking him back. Now I let my own fist fly, rather gratified by his grunt as my hand collided with his side. Focused on my target, though, I'd forgotten to keep focusing on his hands, and his next blow caught me on the chin. I staggered backwards, blacking out for a second. When my vision cleared he had my phone in his hand and was ending the call before rounding on me again.

I bit my lip as he punched me and now I spat blood on to the kitchen floor. Hey, if he was gonna be hurting me he deserved to have my make a mess on his floor. This time I kept an eye on his fists, so I was able to dodge as his hand flew towards my face. I responded with a quick kick to the groin. Ok, so it wasn't exactly nice, but since when did I have to play fair. As he hunched over, groaning in pain, I punched him in the face.

Now I may not be the strongest of people but I guess the combined pain was enough, because he dropped to his knees. Just at that moment, the door flew open, revealing Ranger. His gun was out and he looked…frantic, maybe. Worried, certainly. As soon as he saw us, he froze, surprised. He stared at Reginald for a little bit before raising his eyes to me and moving out of the doorway so Dillon and some Merry Men could walk in.

Dillon took in the scene and grinned at me. "Good work, sunshine." He looked at the Merry Men. "Split up and let's find the girl. Someone get him." He nodded towards Reginald and, as the men dispersed, one stepped forward, handcuffing Reginald and dragging him away, back outside.

Ranger still looked a little stunned as he stepped towards me. I licked my lips, figuring it wouldn't exactly be attractive if blood started trickling down my chin. Er…not that I cared what he thought. I was mad. Right. Mad…not happy to see him or anything. I'd not missed him during the time I'd been with Dillon.

Ranger lifted a hand, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek. "You shouldn't just go into things like this alone. When I heard him hit you, over the phone, and you cried out…"

"I don't need you anymore, Ranger. That's why I went to Dillon for training."

I'd meant for the words to be a sort of "training. That's it. Not sex, you stupid man" type of thing. That, though, was apparently not the message Ranger got. Pain flashed briefly across his features before they went blank. Then, he smiled a tiny bit, just the corners of his lips lifting, though it seemed rather forced. "I guess you don't." He dropped his hand from my face, patting me on the shoulder. "Good work, babe."

I frowned. Well…so much for that. Kinda dense, this one… I grabbed his hand as he was dropping it back to his side. "Just because I don't need you doesn't mean I don't want you."

He was silent for a moment, eyes intent on my face. "I'm not going to share you with Dillon, babe." Requesting monogamy seemed like a step in the right direction but it was so unnecessary as to be obnoxious.

"Right, like _that_'s gonna be a problem. What, did you just delete all my voicemails as you got 'em?" I propped my hands on my hips, giving him an irritated look.

"Your voicemails…?" He frowned, shaking his head. "My phone's been broken. I've not gotten any voicemails from you."

"Oh…" That was all I said for a second as I stared at him. So…I'd been getting all worked up for nothing? Great. And now that we were face-to-face and I wasn't telling him out of frustration and impatience, I found it hard to tell him I loved him. Not because it was any less true…just…I don't know.

"What'd you say in the voicemails, babe?"

Right…not really what I wanted him asking. "I…" My attempt to avoid his gaze was thwarted as he brought a hand under my chin. "I said that…um…I love you."

He stared at me for a few seconds and then a slow smile spread across his face. "I'm glad to hear it." He brought his lips to mine, thankfully gently (hey, my lip was split open, remember?)

For a second I melted against him, one hand somehow finding its way to his chest and fisting in his shirt. Then, I frowned against his lips before pulling away from them. "That wasn't really the response I was hoping for."

He chuckled, one hand smoothing back my hair. "Sorry, babe. I love you, too. Better?" My smile must have been answer enough, because he looked around and then spoke again. "Now let's see if we can get this wrapped up quickly so I can get you home. You may not need me anymore but I can't say the same for myself."

He pulled me in for another kiss, this one a bit less gentle, and I smiled. He was talking about a different kind of dependence altogether and _that_ kind I had no problem with.

A/N: Alright, everyone. That's it. Thank you to all the people who have read my stories over the years. As you can probably tell from this chapter, I'm not all that great at writing as Stephanie anymore – I lost interest in the series over a year ago and this last chapter was surprisingly difficult to write, let alone trying to write it in character. Hopefully it wasn't too terribly abrupt, though I do realize it's not that strong of an ending.

I don't think I'll be writing more fanfictions, but if you want to read anything else I'm writing, you can head over to calt(dot)tk (it doesn't work if I do it as a regular link but...yeah. Turn the (dot) into a period) where I'm writing an online novel with my friend. Thank you again to all of my readers – I've really enjoyed getting reviews from you over the years. Goodbye.


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